


Trauma

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few ficlets highlighting what happened 'offscreen' to the mechs affected by Tyrest's machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Scavengers

**Author's Note:**

> Sure, we saw the Scavengers (and others) recovering from Tyrest's godawful spark-killing Machine, but that was the last we've canonically seen of the Scavengers. What happened after they weren't dying in horrible agony? Did they get to Misfire and Fulcrum before the guards threw them back in the brig? Did Grimlock finally win Jenga?!

It happened too quickly to process; Krok was critically eyeing the tower of blocks set between him and Grimlock as they waited to pull in for the rescue when the pain hit. Krok had experienced a wide range of torture in his lifetime, but nothing compared to the splitting agony ripping through his spark. Before his audials offlined, he heard similar shrieks from the others and he rolled over, reaching blindly for them. Beneath the pain, the captain panicked over his crew, his ship, the overhyped future they had been building from scrap for _so_ long-

Then, just as it had began, the pain abruptly quit. Krok laid prone on the floor, frame twitching in aftershock, vocaliser clicking uselessly as his systems continued to try to force stasis. It was tempting to sink into the approaching numbness, considering the attack seemed to be in a lull; but that meant it was coming again and he had to be prepared, he had to evade and escape, and those two glitches were still planetside and probably wondering where they were by now...

Even so, Krok relished another guilty second of placid darkness as he systematically repressed what pain receptors he could- then gasped as rough hands gripped his helm. With a groan he rebooted his optics, huffing softly as Spinister swam into view above him. Though the facemask was still in place, he could tell the surgeon was speaking as he began shaking the captain.

" _Ssskktop_ ," Krok hissed, rapidly recycling his audials as he struggled to sit up. " _Sssskkksss_ spin,  _stop_."

At the sound of his voice, Spinister crumpled over him, burying an overly heated face against his neck cabling, the thick arms crushing his own at his sides. The sickly yellow smoke was still drifting from their frames, collecting near the ceiling to paint erratic ghosts in Krok's vision. When Krok's audials finally came online, all he could hear was his designation repeated in a rasping whisper.

" _Skkssss_ \- S'okay," he coughed, resting his head into the cradle of one of Spinister's hands. "S'over."

" _Krok_ ," Spinister vented hotly, tilting his head to rub his forehelm against Krok's. "Krok.  _Krok._ "

Each repetition pulled at Krok's spark, each desperate murmur conveying a different meaning;  _are you alright, what happened, I'm okay, Primus that hurt._

"Up, Spin," Krok groaned, squirming in earnest. "Mis _ssskkk_ \- Misfire. Fulcrum. Gotta get them. Crankcase?"

"Here," a strangled voice called from somewhere off to the right. "On- On it, jus' gimme a fraggin' klik."

Krok vented a long sigh, nuzzling Spinister in thanks as the flier gently untangled from his frame and helped him to his feet. His gaze fell on Grimlock, startled to realise the Dinobot was in the same position he'd been before _whatever_ that was. Were Autobots immune? Had it been an Autobot attack?!

The Dinobot finally glanced up, one optic squinting as he looked them over. "Krok done screaming? Krok's turn."

"I hate you, Grim," Krok muttered, unsurprised when the Dinobot just laughed and declared himself the winner.


	2. Tarn and Kaon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few ficlets highlighting what happened 'offscreen' to the mechs affected by Tyrest's machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarn wouldn't let anything manipulate a spark that's under his protection.

Kaon's double shift was finally over; he loved his job and he loved to work, but the long hours had been overshadowed by a sly promise of a reward when it was done. At last he was able to stretch, moaning as joints popped, and begin the hunt for his prize. Using his comm would be cheating, though it was tempting to speed along his search. 

Fortunately, Tarn was predictable.

Of course Tarn would want him to refuel before engaging in more _rigorous_ activities; Kaon found him clutching matching cubes by the dispenser, a familiar blossom of pride and warmth rippling through the strong fields. Kaon had just stepped inside the welcoming energy when liquid fire poured through his systems.

Kaon naturally had a high tolerance for pain- a fact he and Tarn frequently exploited- but this was far beyond his capacity and experience. With a choking cry he fell to the floor, grabbing at the dark pedes before him. Agony ripped through his spark and he immediately smelled fried circuitry; with what little sanity he clung to, he knew he was suffering severe damage- possibly fatal.

And for one second of shameful panic, Kaon _wondered._

Just as he was beginning to adapt to the searing pain, even as he resigned himself to losing consciousness, his spark lurched in its chamber as it reacted to another source. His audials had offlined when the attack first hit, but he didn't need them to understand Tarn was coaxing his spark to retreat, to hide and cling to the dulcet voice. 

Tarn was _helping_ him, _fighting_ the agonising pull on his spark. The conflict brought a new pain all its own as Kaon strained to obey, shaking hands reaching out blindly to grasp the thick, safe armour, forcibly grounding his reality in Tarn's melodic fantasies. He wasn't ready to leave; he had too much to do, so much to experience. An endless sonnet of loyalty and affection to compose and share.

As quickly as it had appeared, the involuntary call to his spark ceased. Kaon was thrown forward, gasping as he rapidly reset primary systems. 

Slowly he became aware of the tight grip on his frame, encircled by strong arms with Tarn's facemask pressed firmly to his chassis. When his audials rebooted, he finally heard what Tarn was humming.

"Stay with me, Kaon," Tarn sang softly. "They _cannot_ have you, they have no right, no authority to take you from me. Your spark is _mine,_ Kaon, and I will never relinquish that privilege. _Stay_ with me. Stay, Kaon, I will protect you..."

"Yes," Kaon whispered, delighted to feel a wash of relief through the enveloping fields. He nuzzled his face in the crook of the warm neck, shivering through aftershocks. "I am yours."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading 8D


End file.
